Peter took the hood off, breathing deep like he’d just come out of a deep dive.
“I’ll wear it,” Peter said, resolved like he’d only just made up his mind. “But don’t inflate the gag, okay?”
Carver shot him a look. “Are you telling me how to do my job?”
Rather than be intimidated or turned on, Peter rolled his eyes. “No, I’m telling you that if you inflate the gag, I’ll bite your knot off.”
“You know I’m going to spank you for that, right?” Carver asked, enjoying the way Peter squirmed in his seat at the warning.
Peter’s ass had been giving him hell all day, his paddling the night before turning his ass into one big bruise.
“I know,” he said, biting his lip and looking pleased with himself.
Carver chuckled. Every time he’d disciplined Peter, he’d amped up the intensity, and he was curious how much Peter could take before pain was just pain.
“How’s your cock?” Carver asked, making Peter groan.
“It’s annoying,” he whined, making Carver grin. Peter had been very good about not complaining about his new cage, but from the way he was constantly adjusting himself, Carver knew that he hated it.
“It’s just six weeks,” Carver said, enjoying the way his own erection throbbed in his pants. “You can handle it.”
“Thirty days!” Peter protested, voice sharp and outraged. “We said thirty days.”
“I think six weeks sounds better,” Carver mused, reaching over and cupping Peter’s crotch. He could feel the little cage against his palm through Peter’s pants, small and delicate.
Peter clamped his jaw shut, refusing to respond to Carver’s teasing.
“Maybe eight weeks,” Carver mused, pinching the cage with his thumb and index finger through Peter’s pants, giving it a little tug.
“Carver!” Peter complained, batting his hand away. “You’re such a dick!”
Carver grinned.
* * *
When they reached The Bank,Carver used the code Ingram had given him to access the underground parking garage, maneuvering his car down the narrow entrance. He parked in the first available spot, getting out of the car and walking around to open Peter’s door for him.
The parking garage was a dark and damp place, the ceiling so low that Carver could reach up and brush his hand over it, thick concrete pillars casting shadows in the already dark room. Carver counted at least fifteen parked cars and SUVs, but he didn’t see anyone.
“Are you ready?” he asked, looming over Peter as he sat stock still in the front seat. He reached down and took the sensory deprivation hood out of Peter’s hands.
“I don’t know,” Peter said, taking off his seatbelt. He wrung his hands and shrugged. “I guess.”
“You’ll be fine,” Carver soothed, taking him by the wrist and pulling him out of the car. “Just relax and let me do the thinking.”
Taking a deep breath, Peter nodded.
“Good boy,” Carver rumbled, stroking Peter’s hair before lifting the hood up and fitting it over his head. Even with his trepidation, Carver’s cock was rock hard as he laced the hood up tight, buckling the straps that went around Peter’s throat, over his head, and back over the laces.
Peter’s lips and nostrils were the only part of his head not covered in black leather, and in a second even his lips would be hidden by the leather base of the gag Carver was going to put in his mouth.
“Peter?” Carver tested, but there was no reaction. Peter was in a world of his own, the thick padding over his ears preventing him from hearing anything beyond the hood. Pushing two fingers against his mouth, Carver got him to part his lips, pushing the gag into place and using the last dangling strap to buckle it into place.
The sight of his omega, hooded and helpless, had Carver’s balls feeling full and heavy. The fact that Peter was dressed normally with the exception of the hood only made it hotter.
He took Peter by the shoulders, tense and raised almost to his ears, rubbing them firmly before pulling him into a hug. He held Peter tight until the tension drained from his body, leaving him his usual relaxed submissive self.
Carver reached into the car and grabbed a leash and collar, buckling the collar into place and wrapping the leash around his hand. Peter reached up and felt along the leash, tracing it up to the collar wrapped around his throat.
